When a misunderstanding caused millionaire Colton Nichols to be taken for Santa Claus by neighbor Amanda Richards's young son, Colton was determined to keep his distance. But the Christmas-wish letter Jeremy sent broke his heart—Jeremy asked only that his sick sister be well and his mom's heart not be sad. Colton found himself praying for just that—and wishing this family were his own.

Yep, that's me, she thought. Totally maxed out on hope and in need of a bucketload.

What was she going to do now? She swiped the snowflakes from her lashes, tried not to let the freezing winds trouble her, She studied the long steeply rising hill above the broken-down car--the road home. The veiled Montana Rockies and silent snow-covered forests surrounded her, but no help of any kind. No driveways, no houses. Nothing.

She thought of her two little ones in the back seat, growing colder as each second passed. She bit her bottom lip to keep the frustration inside. Apparently luck was like hope, and she'd used up her limit on both.

Don't die on me now, car. She gave a helpless look at her car's engine compartment. The raised hood blocked some of the snowfall as she bent over the radiator cap. The Trusty Rusty, as she called the four-door thirty-year-old sedan, had seen her Aunt Vi through twenty years, two cousins through lean college years, and now it was hers.

The price had been right--free. But then, she'd had to pay to have it towed to the nearest mechanic. Not the best deal on the planet, but since Todd had taken off for parts unknown with their five year-old minivan, leaving behind a divorce decree and more medical debts than she knew what to do with, she'd take whatever gifts the angels sent her way. And, until this moment, this gift had been the utmost of dependability.

Okay, Trusty Rusty, let's get you running. If that's possible. Amanda gripped the sizzling hot radiator cap one more time.

Please, angels, let it be possible. She thought of her little girl bundled up in the back seat, so desperately ill. This cold would not be good for her.

The scorching burn of metal went right through her insulated gloves while she twisted the stubborn little cap. Hot, hot, hot, her brain told her, but she ignored it. Come on, just a little more. She could feel the cap give, but it was like grabbing a fistful of fire. Pain overwhelmed her and she let go.

The cap now sat in cockeyed defiance, firmly stuck on the radiator. Amanda didn't even mutter in frustration as she heard the telltale sound of a car's side window, loose in its frame, being unrolled. She ripped off her glove and, dropping to her knees, plunged her hand into the snow berm made by the last snowplow to have braved the windy and narrow country road.

She might be out of hope and out of luck, but she was not out of fortitude. She would let both her blistered fingers and the stubborn radiator cap cool a bit more and she'd try it again.

"Jessie's gettin' cold, Mom."

She turned at the sound of her son's voice. Jeremy had popped halfway out of the window, twisting his torso so he could keep an eye on her. His blond hair stuck up in unruly shocks and the worry in his brown eyes made him look far too old for his age.

Her heart warmed at the sight of her precious firstborn and she forgot all about her scorched fingertips and the wet snow seeping through the knees of her jeans. He was a seven-year-old blessing and challenge all at once. Too smart for his own good, too cute for hers. "Roll the window back up so you don't let in more cold air. I'll have this figured out in a jiffy. Don't worry, okays?"

"She's real cold." He gave his electric-blue muffler a swing with one free hand and watched the fringed ends dangle into the snow.

"It's not safe to hang out the window, you know that."

"Yeah, but I could hang out the other window on the other side. That'd be worse. A truck would come along and--" He balanced on the edge of the door and clapped his hands together. "Hey, you know what? I'm gonna go home an' get the sled an' come back with the barbecue. Then I could make a fire and you an' Jessie could get warm."

"Leave it to you to find the perfect solution. But sadly, your little sister and I will be icicles before you get back. Now sit down, buckle up and close the window."

"Na-huh! I could fly there like Wonder Boy. He's my favorite super hero next to Jesus."

"Jesus isn't a super hero, honey."

"I know that! He's the greatest hero."

It was hard to argue with that. And since they could use a hero about now, she sent up a prayer, not for herself but for her kids. Just a little help, Lord, please. Just enough to get us by. That's all.

Surely that wasn't too much to ask.

But as if in answer, the brush of snowflakes against her cheek were sharp-edged and icy. When she tilted her head back to look up at the gray, heartless sky, she feared her prayer hadn't risen on wings but had fallen to the ground right along with the snow.

Since her hand wasn't stinging so much, she pulled it out of the berm. She didn't care about the pain or the blisters. What she cared about was getting the kids home. At least it wasn't too far, considering. She laid her hand at her throat. Although she could not feel the plain gold cross through the layers of winter clothes, she felt better just knowing it was there. Her mother's cross. Her mom had been a true believer, unwavering in her faith.

It wasn't that she didn't believe, Amanda thought, it's that she just couldn't see. She'd been walking by faith and not by sight for so long, she didn't know where she was anymore. She was running low on faith, too.

Well, it wasn't like they could just sit here. The winds swirled, as if promising a blizzard soon. There was no way she could let her children--especially poor Jessie--be caught in that. And until they were out of the dead zone, she couldn't call her aunt for help on her cell phone.

A little luck, Lord. Please. She yanked on her glove. When she tried the cap again, it was much cooler but still hot enough to burn while she worked the stubborn thing off.

The radiator was bone dry, just as she suspected. She stared at the empty compartment and felt the last vestiges of courage slide off her like the snow on her coat.

Yep, it looked like she was all out of luck. And radiator fluid.

She closed the hood with a slam. Through the melting globs of snow on the windshield, the children were watching her. Jessie was standing on the backseat in order to see better, her eyes too big for her peaked little face. Jeremy had pulled himself up like a little soldier at roll call.

I can't let them worry. They have enough on their plates right now. It was her job to handle the worries and hardships. It was theirs to be kids.

She checked for traffic before she stepped out onto the road, an automatic response from living in Portland, even though it was so quiet that she could hear a vehicle coming from half a mile away.

She slogged through the deep snow unflinchingly, for she was still a Montana girl down deep at heart, and opened the back passenger door. "All right, ten hut. We're going to take a scenic hike. Jessie, baby, let's get your hood tied up tight."

Her sweet little girl stared up at her with troubled blue eyes, and her Cupid's mouth scrunched into a heart-breaking frown. "I don't wanna."

"I know, but it will make you like a bunny."

The little girl's frown didn't lessen, although she nodded grudgingly. It had been a hard morning for her, being poked and prodded at the hospital.

Amanda brushed aside silken red curls before she tied the fuzzy hat's strings into a bow beneath Jessie's little chin and tried with all her self-discipline to hold back the tide of heartbreak within her. Then she tugged the thick parka's hood over the top. "There, now you can pretend you have beautiful long bunny ears. Jeremy, zip your coat all the way, honey."

"Then I can't fly, Mom. I'm Wonder Boy."

"Even Wonder Boy zips his coat when it's snowing." She snagged the old stadium blanket the kids used in the car from the floor where it had fallen and wrapped Jessie up in it for added protection.

"That's because he keeps his identity secret," Jeremy explained as he hopped off the edge of the backseat and into the snow. "That way he can go around helping people and no one knows who he is. It's real important to help people."

"You're right. Now help me out by grabbing my bag and shutting the door, please."

"Okay!" He hurried to comply.

"I'm cold, Mommy." Jessie hiccuped.

"I know, baby. Snuggle close, okay?" Amanda held her little one tight. Her spirit swelled with love for her baby, but sometimes love wasn't enough. She'd give her life for her daughter's in a snap, but she'd already tried that bargain with God. To no avail.

"Here, Mom!" Jeremy jumped at her side, holding out her heavy bag, stuffed full.

It weighed a ton as she slung it onto her shoulder, taking care not to jostle her ill little girl.

The wind blew harder as they started out. She kept her steps short to accommodate Jeremy, and took his hand. The feel of his fingers wrapping tight around hers, holding on with so much need and confidence, humbled her.

So much was riding on her decisions. On her strength. On her frailties. The only thing she knew for sure was that she would not fail her kids.

She twisted just enough to take the brunt of the vicious wind and shelter Jessie from the snow. It was falling harder now, pinging through the air like thousands of icy miniature bullets and it thickened like a veil falling closed, until the tall jagged Rockies disappeared and all that remained of the endless forest were dark shadows just out of reach and just out of sight.

The world felt so far away. Maybe that was a good thing, since that meant the hospital was far away, too. If she concentrated hard enough, maybe she could push this morning's visit out of her mind and the anxiety of waiting for the results of Jessie's tests.

But no, nothing could diminish the icy fear taking root in her soul that this new medication had had little effect. Nothing could lessen the fear that this could be Jessie's last Christmas.

And if that came true, then her strength of will could not change it. All the love in her heart could not change it. She was out of luck and out of prayer. All out of everything.

Snow battered her but she kept going, hoping against hope that the promise was true.

That she really wasn't walking alone.